All That Lies Within Read Free

Middlebury was an excellent liberal arts college, famous for the Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference, the oldest writers’ conference in America, and for the Bread Loaf School of English. The same School of English that had turned down an application from a very young and eager, up-and-coming writer named Dara Thomas. That was years ago, before she adopted the nom de plume Constance Darrow, and long before she went to Hollywood.
    “I’ll try not to hold a grudge.”
    Just as Dara opened the envelope, her computer chimed announcing the arrival of the new pages. She sighed. Rebecca Minton would have to wait. Dara Thomas, movie star, had lines to learn. 
     

     
    Rebecca’s hands trembled as she turned the letter over and over. She hadn’t dared hope that she’d hear back from Constance Darrow…and within several weeks too. She ran her fingers over the return address, which was ridiculous, she knew, since it wasn’t even hand-written and it was only a post office box in New York.
    “Oh, for goodness sake. Just open it and stop being a school girl.”
    Rebecca reached for the letter opener and made a neat slit along the top of the envelope. The paper was standard-issue letterhead, with the name Constance Darrow and the same address from the outside of the envelope centered at the top.
    As she scanned the contents, she realized with a jolt that there was more than one page. Constance Darrow, Pulitzer Prize-winning author, had taken the time to write Rebecca a multi-page letter.
    Ms. Minton,
    Thank you for taking the time to write. I’m so pleased that you’ve chosen to key in on the complexity of the metaphor of weather for the condition of the human soul. I agree with you that this is critical to understanding the motivations of the protagonists throughout the novel.
    However, I take issue with your assessment of Harold. I am intrigued that you characterized his relationship with God as one of disappointment. You are correct that he is a middle-aged man struggling to find and follow his path. The loss of his wife has left him questioning things he, heretofore, took for granted.
    But, compelling as your thoughts on the subject are, I disagree with your conclusion. To my mind, Harold has not stopped believing in God. He’s simply trying to reconcile what he knows of God and Heaven with his own personal experience, which seem to him to be at odds. I’m interested to hear your response to this interpretation…
    Rebecca raised an eyebrow. Was Constance Darrow inviting her to continue their dialogue? She reread the passage. It certainly appeared that way. Rebecca squealed and held the letter to her chest. She wondered how long was appropriate to wait before replying. As she’d never replied to an author before, she was unaware of the protocol. Was there one?
    “Rebecca, you’re not some fan girl. You’re a grown woman, a tenured professor of American literature. Act like it.” Still, she couldn’t help but wonder about the woman whose prose she so admired. She told herself it was because she was teaching some of Constance’s works this semester, though she knew the interest went far deeper than that.
    Rebecca had googled Constance, researched her copyrights with the Library of Congress, written to her publisher, her agent, and anyone else she could find who seemed remotely connected to the mysterious Ms. Darrow, explaining that she needed the information for the course she was teaching. And she’d come up completely empty. No one would tell her anything about Constance, and not a single picture of her existed anywhere that Rebecca could find. Apart from a bibliography of her work, a brief biography, and a vague description of a difficult and lonely childhood, Constance Darrow was as amorphous as a cloud.
    Regretfully, Rebecca folded the letter and returned it to its envelope. Her senior seminar students would be filing into class at any moment. Rebecca locked the letter in her desk drawer, gathered up her lecture